


Maid for You

by Furuba_Fangirl



Series: A Maid and Her Master [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Boss!Aziraphale, Clothed Sex, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Praise Kink (Good Omens), Cunnilingus, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, F/M, Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), Fluff and Smut, Gen, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Gentle Dom Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Insecure Crowley (Good Omens), Inspired by Art, Kink Exploration, M/M, Madame Tracy is a Peach, Maid!Crowley, Master/Servant, Multiple Orgasms, Naked Cuddling, Pillow Talk, Porn With Plot, Post-Canon, Service Kink, Sex Shop, Sexual Roleplay, She/Her Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), Slight Strength Kink, Smut, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Sub Crowley (Good Omens), Vaginal Sex, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:07:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25411357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Furuba_Fangirl/pseuds/Furuba_Fangirl
Summary: Crowley lives to serve his angel. However, when he gets an idea on how to express this more thoroughly, he needs a little help along the way.Inspired from the chapterMaid to Love YouofPolaroidsby gingerhaole
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Madame Tracy (Good Omens)
Series: A Maid and Her Master [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1601896
Comments: 26
Kudos: 190
Collections: Top Aziraphale Recs





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gingerhaole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingerhaole/gifts).



> As promised, a prequel to Maid to Love You (although it turned out to be more like a behind the scenes bonus lol) Still, this series can be read in any order you’d like and it will still make sense! I loved the idea of our sex-positive Queen Madame Tracy helping our favorite disaster demon with some of his sexual insecurities so I just had to explore it. Also I’m continuing with the punny titles in honor of gingerhaole whose wonderful art has made this series possible! 
> 
> P.S. Sorry it took me so long to those who might have been waiting for this part. IDK if you all have noticed but the world kind of sucks right now and I haven’t been in the right headspace to write lately :( But I finally got a burst of inspiration so I hope this can serve as a little pick-me-up for all of you as well.
> 
> Happy Readings Lovelies!
> 
> -Ruby ❣️

Crowley can’t say for sure when it happened. He’s not even sure if there was an exact moment or if it was just a culmination of events that made him realize he would do anything for Aziraphale. Maybe it was all the little appreciative smiles the angel would give him when Crowley covered the bill for lunch. Maybe it was his giddiness when he returned from Edinburg to see the Globe Theater teaming with spectators as the demon had promised. Maybe it was the stunned silence that rung louder than a thousand words as he handed Aziraphale his beloved books.

Regardless of the when, Crowley accepts, albeit a little bitterly, he is hopelessly whipped.

The aftermath of Armageddon’t certainly didn’t help his situation. Unsurprisingly, once there was no longer the lingering fear of someone hovering over their shoulders, desperately panted love confessions suddenly came naturally to them… They were finally free to do as they pleased and, oh, did Crowley want to please. Sure he would huff and haw but ultimately it was all smoke and mirrors.

When Aziraphale wanted to go to the opera, Crowley would throw on his best tux and would hold his hand throughout the whole show, paying more attention to his angel quietly humming to the symphony than the actual performance. When Aziraphale asked him to sit on his cock while he read a book in the back room, Crowley would helplessly clutch onto him, resisting every urge to fuck himself on it until he finished every word. When Aziraphale suggested they should live together, by Someone, Crowley made sure he gave his angel a proper home, not just a house; their own personal Eden near the coast with no expense spared. He would do all these things and more because he’d be damned again if he ever let Aziraphale doubt his love.

Honestly, if the guys Downstairs bothered to see him now, they’d surely disown him a second time out of pure shame for catering to the whims of an angel. And, well, Crowley would gladly tell them to bugger off if they did.

Despite indulging Aziraphale at the drop of a hat, there are moments that Crowley becomes restless as if all his efforts aren’t enough or rather… he isn’t enough. That isn’t to say that Crowley ever felt unappreciated; quite the contrary really. Reciprocity was the foundation of their relationship even before the Arrangement and Aziraphale has always made sure his demon knows how grateful he is to him. Still, this doesn’t prevent the intrusive pangs of doubt that shroud Crowley’s mind from time to time. Although, recently, the demon came across something that might help lift the fog so to speak.

It was during one of their lazy nights in while Aziraphale tranquilly read and Crowley mindlessly browsed through his phone next to him on the couch. Somehow his internet search for pictures of angry ducklings eventually led to tourist attractions which in turn led to the topic of maid cafés and, well, that piqued the demon’s interest. Suddenly, Crowley fell down the rabbit hole, reading a few articles about their origin and popularization and so on. For the most part, he found they were inherently innocent yet the idea of tending to his angel in that way… taking orders from him even for the simplest request made Crowley ache between his legs. Needless to say, Aziraphale didn’t get to finish his book on that occasion.

Although he didn’t bring up the idea with Aziraphale then, Crowley spent the next few days delving into the world of master/servant dynamics and, fuck, the demon will never cease to be amazed by human creativity. His mouth was positively watering as he read through some promising scenarios that he was itching to try with his angel. Unfortunately, that just posed a whole new set of problems for the demon.

Despite being receptive to Aziraphale’s wants, it is often difficult for Crowley to vocalize his own especially in matters of intimacy. Apparently, asking Aziraphale for holy water or to run away with him was a cinch compared to finally admitting he preferred being the little spoon.

After a week of procrastinating and self-deliberation, Crowley comes to the mortifying conclusion that perhaps he needs an outside perspective. So when Aziraphale tucks himself away in his study for the evening, Crowley takes the opportunity to make a call but not without indignantly staring a hole into his phone first. Even before the person on the other end gets to say hello, Crowley discreetly hisses, “First things first, you will not breathe a word of this conversation to Aziraphale! Second…” The demon pauses before huffily admitting, “I need some to talk to.”

Madame Tracy’s chipper voice comes through, “Oh, Mr. Crowley, I have to say I am surprised to hear from you but never mind that! What would you like to talk about?”

***

In the privacy of her lounge, the medium calmly sips her tea as she observes Crowley fiddling with the crocheted doily under his saucer. He had insisted they handle this issue in person but he hasn’t said much aside from casual remarks, which isn’t that different from when he tags along with Aziraphale. Fortunately for the demon, Madame Tracy’s professions instilled her with the patience of a saint.

“I could get you something stronger if you like, dearie,” she offers kindly.

Crowley looks up from his stupor and scratches his cheek nervously. “M’ fine. I’d prefer not to go on a drunken rant today.”

Madame Tracy titters, “Alright, just making sure you’re comfortable. We have quite some time before Mr. S comes back so there’s no rush.”

“Thanks… Although, er, I suppose it would be easier if I stop stalling, huh?” Finally, Crowley takes a deep breath. “I, um, recently came across an interesting, uh, concept that I’d like to try… in the bedroom department,” he explains bashfully. “And I thought I’d run it by someone before bringing it up with Aziraphale. I figured since you’re friends with him and you’re also one of the least judgmental humans I know at the moment, you were the best option.”

“Awe, well, I’m flattered that you feel you can confide in me, Mr. Crowley. I know this is a delicate matter but trust me there’s nothing I haven’t heard before,” Madame Tracy assures as she straightens her posture with all the professionalism of a therapist. “Now tell me, what did you have in mind?”

Crowley gnaws on his bottom lip before tersely answering, “Master and servant roleplay.”

The medium’s eyebrows shoot up in delight. “Oh, what fun! That was a popular request among my clients. Why, I personally liked being the coquettish baroness with a _very_ loyal stable boy,” she admits cheekily. Madame Tracy notices some of the tension in Crowley’s body relax a bit as he acclimates to the conversation. “So, what role were you thinking of playing?”

“I was thinking of something more on the, uh, submissive side... A maid specifically,” he admits, a light blush painting his cheeks.

Madame Tracy smiles encouragingly at him. “I think that is a lovely idea and the possibilities are endless. I’m sure Aziraphale would be open to it as well.”

Crowley winces a little at this.

“Or are you worried he’ll be uncomfortable being the dominate one?”

The demon snorts a little. “Eh, that definitely won’t be an issue with him but… this would be new territory for both of us and I have a tendency of going too fast.” He slumps backs on the bergère and sighs, “Don’t want to mess this up.” 

“Ah, I see. To your credit, though, you were willing to ask for help to make this enjoyable for the both of you so I’d say you’re pacing yourself nicely already. I’m sure Aziraphale will appreciate that gesture alone.”

“I guess…”

She notes his unconvinced tone and gives him a sympathetic look. “More importantly is that he loves you and he’ll love whatever will make you happy. Of course, to do that you have to ease yourself into it as well.”

He quirks an eyebrow at her. “How’d you suppose I do that?”

Madame Tracy grins, pleased that he asked. She gets up from her seat, adjusting her shawl. “Come along, darling,” she chirps. “We’re going on a little field trip.”

“Uh, where?”

“To have you test the waters.”

—

“I’m gonna feel ridiculous, aren’t I?” Crowley gripes as they stand out in front of a little shop with frosted windows. The posters plastered on them boldly advertising “18+: TOYS, LINGERIE, AND WONDERS GALORE!”

“Absolutely not,” Madame Tracy swears. “I came here for years before deciding to hang up my frocks and I never left disappointed.”

Crowley dubiously examines the ebony building contrasted by “Wonderland” decaled in white, cursive letters with the silhouette of a rabbit as the period. He huffs, “Fine. If this is the price of horniness then I guess I have to buck up.”

The medium giggles before taking Crowley by the arm. “No need to fret, dearie. I promise once we get you sorted out, you won’t be so much of a sour puss.”

Crowley rolls his eyes behind his shades but he is calmed by her optimism. When Madame Tracy swings the door open, the demon expects to get the immediate whiff of lust and debauchery. Instead, it is mostly the artificial scent of massage oils with only a slight undertone of human desire. The appearance of the shop décor also isn’t what he imagined either. He scans the black and fuchsia checkered carpet, the sleek shelves stocked with nifty gadgets, and the clothing racks brimmed with elaborate costumes. Although the most surprising thing to him is the scattered customers of every shape, color, orientation, and presentation. Some flying solo, some with partners or friends but all just… _people_ trying to find pleasure for themselves.

“So what do you think so far, Mr. Crowley?”

He tries to keep himself as nonchalant as possible. “S’ alright. Although I was thinking there’d be more red lighting and chains hanging from the ceiling.”

“Ah, you see the chains were all moved to the bondage section,” she quips.

“I’ll have a looksee later on then; for research purposes that is,” he retorts.

“Right, right, to what we are here for.” Madame Tracy guides him toward the rows of lace, ruffles, and leather, sifting through a few options. “Did you have a specific style in mind?”

He gives a noncommittal shrug. “I just thought I’d figure out what felt right?”

“Okay, we can work with that. Ooh, what about something soft and playful like a Lolita theme.” She plucks out an ensemble of a pink dress and white apron accented with light blue frills.

Crowley crinkles his nose a bit. “No offense but I’d rather not look like a pile of candy floss.”

“Hmm, it is a tad much, isn’t it? It also wouldn’t go with the whole demon thing,” she says in a jokingly hushed tone. She pensively taps her chin. “Maybe you’d prefer something eccentric like steampunk or Victorian gothic,” she suggests gesturing to another area.

He scrutinizes the darker colored fabric combinations. “These aren’t too shabby but I was thinking more... classic.” He smiles a little fondly. “Aziraphale is a sucker for that.”

“You can’t go wrong with that and I believe nothing is more traditional than a French maid.”

Crowley’s expression is unreadable but there is hidden excitement when he says, “Yeah, I can work with that.”

Now that he’s settled on an idea, Madame Tracy gives him space to search by himself. After perusing through outfits of varying designs and levels of raciness, one catches Crowley’s attention in particular. He traces his fingers along the delicate fabric as he inspects the details of the black dress. Its long sleeves and high collar giving the illusion of decency but the sheerness along with the skimpiness of the skirt suggesting otherwise. It is perfect enough to tease an angel… Enough to make him crave what lies beneath.

Crowley reels in those thoughts not wanting to spontaneously manifest an Effort in public. He clears his throat and says, “I think I’d like to give this one a try.”

“Great! The dressing rooms are in the back. I’ll just get an associate to open one up…”

Before she can finish, Crowley is sauntering away with the costume hoisted over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, there’s one available right now.”

In the small cubicle, the demon hangs up his finding, giving it a final once-over. Before he can overthink his decision, Crowley waves his hand over himself so that the coat hanger is left empty and his clothes are folded on top of the pink upholstered stool. He hesitantly turns to look into the mirror and… _woah_. The demon gawks at his reflection in disbelief, hands curiously gliding over the white pinafore. He even does a little spin to appreciate the costume in its entirety and comes to the conclusion that he looks… pretty. _Sexy_ , even.

Crowley hadn’t outwardly been female since Nanny Ashtoreth and given she was meant to be the picture of dignity and elegance she would have never dared wear something so risqué. To be fair though, Crowley hadn’t worn anything remotely like this even before Nanny. If he had, perhaps his demonic temptations would’ve been a lot easier. Although, there’s only one being he cares to tempt now…

Once he finishes checking himself out, he puts on his civilized clothing again before returning to the front where Madame Tracy is shopping for a few goodies of her own.

When she notices him, she excitedly asks, “So, how did it go?”

Crowley’s lips turn up slightly. “Good… Although,” he gazes out at all the store has to offer and puckishly says, “I think I need some accessories.”

—

The Bentley pulls up to Madame Tracy’s place, their purchases safely tucked away in the back seat. “Um, thanks for everything. Despite being an agent of Hell I’m still green in this area so I appreciate you taking the time to help.”

She smiles thoughtfully. “You’re welcome, dearie. I was happy to assist.”

“Let’s just hope it was worth it.”

She squeezes his shoulder. “It will be. Just remember to have fun and to not put too much pressure on yourself, especially the first time around.”

“Alright, I’ll try,” he says in earnest.

Madame Tracy gathers her belongings and wishes him luck before heading inside to greet Sergeant Shadwell.

***

Outside on their patio table, Crowley and Aziraphale sit with a pitcher of lemonade between them as they relax in the summer heat to the distant murmur of crashing waves. Crowley observes his angel peacefully doing that morning’s crossword puzzle as he waits for the chance to speak up.

When he does finally muster up enough courage to open his mouth, he is interrupted by Aziraphale asking, “Something on your mind, dear?”

Crowley’s teeth clack a little as he snaps his mouth shut again. “Ngk, what, uh, makes you think that, angel?” he sputters.

Aziraphale looks up from his work with a soft smile. “You’re playing with your hair, dear. You tend to do that when something is bothering you.”

His fingers stop twirling his curls and he lowers his hand as if he didn’t know what the angel was going on about. However, now that he’s been caught he knows Aziraphale isn’t going to let it go. This is made clear when the angel takes off his unnecessary reading glasses and pushes them aside with his newspaper.

Aziraphale lovingly places his hand over Crowley’s. “What is it, love?” he presses, those puppy eyes turning the demon’s heart into jelly.

Crowley sighs, relenting. “I was wondering… do you think I could have the house for myself for an afternoon? I-it’s not because I’m upset or anything like that,” he quickly adds. “I just want to set something up… A surprise, really. Even though technically it isn’t any more now that I’ve told you but I don’t want you to be completely caught off guard—“

His rambling is cut off by a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Okay,” Aziraphale whispers against his skin.

“Okay?”

He pulls away and beams at Crowley. “Of course, darling. I was going to go check on the bookshop this Sunday anyway so you’re free to do whatever you like during that time.”

“I-I, yeah, that works for me bu…” He tilts his head at Aziraphale. “Aren’t you curious as to why?”

“Well, yes, I can’t deny that I am. However, if that’s what you want then obviously I trust you.”

“Aziraphale,” he says breathlessly, nuzzling their foreheads together. “Thank you but… i-if there’s something you don’t like you better tell me.” It is supposed to be demanding but it comes out more like a plea.

The angel caresses his face reassuringly. “I promise, Crowley. Even though I highly doubt that I will have any complaints, is there anything else you’d like me to do?”

He ponders this for a moment. “Just… follow my lead.”


	2. Chapter 2

As Aziraphale’s cab pulls up to the house, he wiggles in his seat with anticipation. For the last couple of days, he had reigned in his curiosity about what Crowley was planning but now he couldn’t wait to get inside. So much so he practically sprints down the path to get to the door. When he does open it, he discovers that the entire lounge is immaculately spotless; the distinct smell of pine cleaner lingering in the air. The floorboards are polished, the couch pillows are fluffed, and even the books he frequently left strewn on the coffee table are finally organized in their respective shelves.

Aziraphale feels his heart swell with affection as he realizes that this isn’t the work of any miracles; this is Crowley’s own handiwork. His way of welcoming him home. “Crowley,” he calls out cheerily, although he doesn’t get a response. “Dear?” The angel walks past their dining hall and notices that the table is set but only for one. Suddenly, his nose is met with a waft of fresh herbs and spices coming from the adjacent kitchen. He rounds the corner to see if Crowley is there yet the only thing he comes across is the oven and stove cooking whatever his demon had prepared for dinner.

After searching around a bit more, the angel deduces that Crowley is likely outside in the garden tending to his plants. As Aziraphale approaches the glass sliding door, he notices a new addition to their backyard: a set of clothing lines with their linens calmly swishing in the breeze. When he goes to investigate, beyond the white veils he hears a soft voice singing about dining at the Ritz precisely at nine. Aziraphale smiles, finding the source of the melody outlined through the translucent cloth. He pushes aside the curtain and cheerfully greets, “There you are, my dear…”

Painted lips smile back at him. “Hello there, Mr. Fell. Glad to see you back home,” the maid says, her voice honey-sweet.

The angel gapes at his demon who doesn’t look very demonic at the moment but is still a temptress none the less. He admires her auburn hair tidied up in a bun, her uniform perfectly clinging to the now softer curves of her body, and her long legs accentuated by silky stockings and chic heels. However, he becomes so distracted that he has yet to answer.

Her smile falters and she tugs at the hem of her skirt self-consciously. “Is something wrong?”

 _This was a mistake,_ Crowley thinks in a panic. _This was a huge mistake! He hates it! He thinks you’re ridiculous! He—_

“N-no, of course not,” Aziraphale blurts. He steps forward to carefully grasp her hands with a comforting smile. “Everything is tickety-boo, dear... I’m just happy to be back home too, Miss...?”

She lets out a sigh of relief. “Antoinette,” she says, answering his implied question. “And I’m glad to hear that.” She gives his hands a final squeeze before letting go to smooth out the sheet she was working on. “Thought that I would do some laundry before dinner but I’m finished now.”

As she bends down to pick up the empty hamper behind her, Aziraphale catches a glimpse of white satin panties and he nearly chokes on air. By the time she turns back around, he quickly averts his gaze as if he wasn’t ogling at her ass even if that was the very obvious intention.

“So, shall we go and get you comfortable, Sir?” she asks.

Aziraphale nods excitedly. “Lead the way.”

Back in the lounge, Antoinette sets the hamper aside and politely folds her hands together. “May I take your coat, Mr. Fell?”

“Uh, yes that would be lovely, dear.” He’s about to remove it himself to hand it over but he is stopped short by his maid.

“No, no, let me,” she instructs.

The clicking of her footsteps sends chills up his spine as she approaches him. Antoinette places her hands on his chest before she slides them underneath the wool to slink it off his shoulders.

“I know you must be tired from your day out… so all I need you to do is let me serve you. Is that alright?”

“Yes,” he answers breathlessly as French-tipped nails rake down his arms. The point of this game becoming clear to him.

The maid carefully carries the garment to the coat rack before expectantly returning to her boss. “Um, Antoinette, would you terribly mind helping with my tie as well?” he asks tugging it nervously. “I seem to be getting a bit hot under my collar.”

“Not at all, Sir.” As she gets unbearably close again, her deft fingers painstakingly undo his bow tie and the top buttons of his shirt. The smell of her floral perfume and the warmth of her breath against his neck completely dizzying him. Antoinette stares at the newly exposed milky skin and small tufts of hair, tempted to press a kiss to the hollow of his throat. Instead, her eyes flick up to meet hypnotized blue ones. “Anything else?”

“Well… I could use a massage at the moment,” Mr. Fell suggests, feeling emboldened to take his role seriously. “My feet are awfully tired.”

 _There’s my little hedonist_.

She smirks faintly, curtsying to him. “As you wish, Sir.” The maid goes to sit at the end of the chaise and gestures for Mr. Fell to join her.

Her employer lies back on the couch, carefully draping his feet on her lap to watch in wonder as she swiftly unties the laces of his brogues. After she slips them off, she sets them aside so she can diligently work out the knots in the soles of his feet. Mr. Fell sighs with content, his hands leisurely resting on his belly while he indulges in his maid’s attention; her lips slightly parted and eyes half-lidded with concentration as if this was the most important job to her. As if it was some sort of honor.

He hums, “My, this is such a lovely treat, dear. Thank you.”

She looks away from her task to gaze at him with blushing cheeks. “You don’t have to thank me, Sir… You deserve to be taken care of and I’m happy to do so.”

“Still, I am very lucky to have such a _wonderful_ maid.” Her boss sits up so that he’s at eye-level with her. “You are being so _good_ to me. So _nice_ ,” he says purposefully, knowing exactly which buttons to push.

And pushed they were as little tremors travel throughout Antoinette’s body focusing themselves directly on her pussy. “Sir,” she murmurs unable to think of anything else to say. Her palm sliding up his ankle to rest on his shin as she gravitates toward him; his breath mingling with her shallow one.

Right now, Crowley wants nothing more than to taste those plush lips… To climb on top of him and ride his cock into oblivion but, oh, this is so much better. It feels like the first time they danced together; fluid and seductive like a courtship between two birds. Beautifully erotic in its own right…

So, the demon regains enough will power to snap back into character. “What else can I do for you, Mr. Fell?”

He smiles fondly at her dedication. “Hmm, while this has been relaxing, I’m starting to feel a bit peckish. I got a whiff of something divine in the kitchen and I can’t wait to give it a try.”

She nods, gently stroking his leg. “Right away, Sir.”

Antoinette helps Mr. Fell up before guiding him toward the dining table. While he gets settled in his seat, the maid brings a bottle of Rioja Reserva to him. As she pours him a glass, her boss beams at her proudly. “Thank you, Antoinette. Although… I do notice a teensy problem,” he remarks.

The maid tenses with worry. “Uh, what is it, Sir?”

“I see there’s no place for you to join me.”

“O-oh,” she stutters. “It’s really not my position to, Mr. Fell.”

“Nonsense,” he tuts. “I would very much like your company. In fact, I insist on it.”

Her heart flutters at his assertive voice. “I-I suppose if you have no problem with it I could nip a bit of wine with you.”

“Excellent!”

With their compromise reached, Antoinette takes Mr. Fell’s empty plate into the kitchen. When she returns, she has a glass for herself and his food: two lamb chops on top of a cauliflower puree with a side of roasted vegetables.

Once she places the dish down, Mr. Fell inhales with relish taking in the smell of garlic and rosemary encrusting the perfectly seared meat. “My dear girl, this looks absolutely scrummy.”

Antoinette goes to place her boss’s napkin over his lap but not without letting her hands skid along his crotch which causes him to sputter lightly. “Bon appétit,” she whispers huskily before taking her seat and serving herself some wine.

Unfortunately for her, two can play at that game. “Don’t worry, darling.” His hand disappears under the table, landing on her thigh provocatively. “I’ll be sure to enjoy every last bite.”

 _Fuck_.

Mr. Fell primly picks up his silverware and cuts into the lamb first. “Perfectly rare. Well done, dear. You know exactly how I like it,” he compliments bringing the piece into his mouth. After he chews on it thoroughly, he lets out an obscenely satisfied groan and the maid tries not to let alcohol dribble from her mouth. “ _Mmm_ , delicious.”

_Oh, fuck!_

As the meal continues, Mr. Fell savors every little morsel. From the touch of truffle oil and dash of peppercorns, nothing is left unpraised. Meanwhile, he is shamelessly moaning like his mouth is being fucked with flavors and it is utter torture. All Antoinette can do is desperately keep her legs clamped together to prevent herself from jamming her fingers into her soaking cunt. By the time he’s emptied his plate, she’s left feeling as if she ran a marathon but at least she can take a short break now.

“Oof, that was marvelous,” he exhales happily patting his stomach. “Thank you again, dear.”

“You’re welcome, Sir,” she says, clearing out his placemat. “I do hope you saved room for dessert though.”

“Ah, there’s always room for that,” he titters watching her hips swing as she strolls away.

At the kitchen sink, Antoinette takes a deep breath to recover from Mr. Fell’s lewd display of gluttony.

_Keep it together, you just have to make it through one more course and then... well, you’ll cross that bridge when we get there._

Although, it seems that’s happening sooner than expected as two broad hands find her hips. “M-Mr. Fell, sorry if I’m keeping you waiting. I’ll get your dessert right away—” She gasps as his lips trace the chiffon along her shoulder and his palms roam over her waist.

“About that,” he whispers hoarsely. “I think I’m in the mood for something else at the moment.”

The maid bites her lip, leaning back so she is flushed against Mr. Fell’s chest. “ _Hnn_ , are you sure about that, Sir? Because I did whip up a Black Forest gateau that is just _decadent_ ,” she rasps trying to maintain her composure.

He chuckles, “Oh, I don’t doubt it, lovely. But trust me, there is something far more decadent that I’d like to taste.” Mr. Fell punctuates this by nipping at her earlobe. “What do you say, dear?”

Antoinette gulps thickly. “I-if that’s what you want, Sir, then who am I to deny you.”

“My Antoinette, you truly are so _generous_ ,” he praises as one hand paws at her pert breast.

“ _Ohh,_ Mr. Fell,” she keens softly as she steadies herself on the counter. _“_ Only for you…”

_Always for you, angel._

“That’s correct, dear.” Antoinette squeaks when his other hand pushes away the frills of her skirt to rest on her mound. “All for me.”

His fingers dip underneath the damp fabric and gently caress the smooth welcoming skin there. Which is a little surprising to the angel since his demon usually doesn’t prefer to go _au naturale_ when manifesting this effort. Still, he appreciates this unique detail nonetheless as he plays with the maid’s slick folds. “Oh my, you’re already so wet, darling, and I’ve barely even touched you all day.”

Antoinette whimpers as his fingertips tease her clit in small circles and pinch at her nipples. “ _A-ah_ , I can’t help it. That’s j-just the effect you have on me, Sir.” She can feel his erection on the crease of her ass and she wantonly grinds against it. “ _Nnn,_ I like being the one to make you smile,” she admits.

Mr. Fell kisses her nape tenderly while hungrily rutting against her. “Oh, Antoinette, I do love being spoiled by you but it’s only fair that I tend to you now.”

“B-but I want this to be about you— _Agh_ ,” she moans as he presses more firmly against her clitoris.

“I know you do, darling, and what I want is to worship you… To fall on my knees and put my mouth on this yummy little cunt of yours,” he coos. “Will you allow me this?”

“Yes… _Yes_ , I will, Mr. Fell,” she whines desperately.

Mr. Fell takes his hand out of her panties and orders, “Turn around.”

The maid does as she’s told, her legs feeling as weak as a newborn foal’s. She stares in awe as Mr. Fell gently suckles her juices off his fingers with a little hum of delight. He gives her an impish smile before nuzzling into the crook of her neck and Antoinette gladly succumbs to him. She grips the edge of the counter as his teeth graze each hardened bud poking through her apron. He then traverses downward to his real destination until he’s kneeling in front of her as promised.

Mr. Fell runs his hand along her calf as he brushes his lips on her knee in reverence. He lifts her leg so it rests on his shoulder, giving himself more access to kiss along her inner thigh. Her breath hitches adorably when he finally reaches bare skin and playfully nibbles the supple flesh. “Such a pretty little thing…,” he mutters dazedly, sucking a bruise on her pristine skin. “Now let’s see what other treasures you’re hiding.” Mr. Fell lifts up her petticoat, his head ducking underneath the layers of ruffles to finally find the cute panties he’d gotten a preview of. He leans forward, his nose tracing the black corset ribbons in front and sniffing the sweet musk radiating from her core. “ _Exquisite_ ,” he breathes. As he reaches the end of the “V” he discovers Antoinette’s perky, pink clit peeking through the satin, now translucent with arousal.

The maid jumps when she feels him placing open mouth kisses through the cloth. “ _Ahh_! S-Sir, please… _more_ ,” she huffs.

“Certainly.”

With a snap of his fingers, her panties are disposed of; the cool air startling her. She has half a mind to reproach the use of a miracle but her thoughts are derailed as he lays his tongue on the sensitive nub, worrying it in his mouth like a tart pomegranate seed. “Oh, _shit!_ ”

His lips spread into a wicked smile, thumbs digging into her sharp hip bones before diving in for more.

As he continues to eat her out with fervor, Antoinette is reduced to a string of nonsensical syllables. Even more maddening is the fact that with her vision obscured, the rest of her functioning senses have become hyper-tuned to each of his ministrations. Every long swipe along her labias, every squishy plunge to her entrance, and every messy slurp and sigh of satisfaction all stoking the flame growing inside of her. Despite wanting to watch her boss’s expression of reckless abandonment as he feasts on her pussy, she knows it won’t be necessary to push her over the edge. Which she makes obvious as her hands fly on the top of his head, frantically bucking against his face. “ _Haah_! Azira— Mr. Fell, oh, I’m so close. I’m—“

Without warning, he latches onto her clit, humming a low gravelly “ _Mmmhh_ ” which is enough to send her mewling into an orgasm. Mr. Fell licks her through it, prolonging her ecstasy until she is shaking uncontrollably. After he’s taken his fill, he puts Antoinette’s wobbly leg down and emerges with his elated face glossy from nose to chin.

Antoinette tiredly reaches for a nearby tea towel, gingerly wiping away her spend. “Was… was it to your liking, Sir?” she asks breathily.

He grabs her hand, appreciatively pecking each knuckle. “As I expected: delectable.”

“It was wonderful for me too. Thank you,” she says, her thumb stroking his brow. However, the maid pauses when her eyes catch the straining bulge in his trousers. “Mr. Fell… would you like me to take care of that for you?”

He gasps as the point of her shoe rubs the outline of his hardened prick. “ _Oh_ … How do you suggest we do that, my dear, hmm?”

“However you like. You’re the boss remember,” she reminds invitingly.

In response, Mr. Fell launches up and captures his maid’s lip in a needy kiss which she is more than willing to allow. He pants, “My wily seductress, I would very much like to sort myself out inside of you.”

“ _Ngh_ , please do.” 

With her permission, he makes quick work of his belt and fly to pull out his flushed cock with a hiss. “Good lord, I’m positively aching thanks to you, dear,” he groans as he strokes himself.

“Then you should probably get a wiggle on then,” she teases mischievously. Although, Antoinette yelps in surprise when Mr. Fell scoops her up by the back of her thighs and spins her into the nearest wall. Her pleats ruck up as she instinctively wraps her legs around him and the maid senses the wet smear of his cock painting her groin.

Her boss brushes their lips together as he purrs, “I fully intend to do just that.”

Antoinette cries into his mouth as he steadily holds her against the flat surface, making it clear that she’s at his mercy. One of her hands cards through blonde curls while the other grips the back of his velvety waistcoat, wanting to envelop him completely like moss on a rock.

Mr. Fell’s hands knead her ass cheeks as the tip of his erection slides over her well-savored seam before finally slipping into the scorching heat. He revels in the ripples of her inner muscles clenching greedily around his cock and the sound of her broken sob when he bottoms out. “ _Guh_ — You feel so… so _luscious_. All tight and worked up just for me, love. A-at this rate, I might not last long,” he babbles.

She sighs with a shudder, overwhelmed by every pulse of his cock and the slow grind of his pubic bone on her clit. “ _Ah_ , don’t care. Just— _fuck me,”_ she yips as he starts to ram into her. The maid’s head falls back with a soft thump, each one of his thrusts forceful enough to potentially send them flying through the plaster. Yet, she knows that he would never let that happen… Despite the indescribable power he holds, every muscle in his body is methodically controlled to hold her securely in place… To not only give her pleasure but affection as well as he dotes on her with heartfelt kisses while simultaneously fucking her relentlessly.

“ _Ohh_ , I’m about to come, darling,” he heaves. “I’m gonna— _ah,_ fill you up! _Hngh,_ I’m gonna make you mine again and again!”

“ _Ungh! Uhhh,_ angel, yes, _yesss!_ _Aziraphaaale_ ,” Crowley wails, gripping on tightly.

“ _Crowley_ ,” Aziraphale growls as he comes, his demon following closely behind.

Their heavy breathing fills the air of the kitchen as they gradually recover in each other’s arms. The mixture of their come dripping out of Crowley’s delightfully sore pussy and onto the waxed tiles.

“M’ sorry,” the demon mumbles in a more familiar timbre. “I didn’t mean to break character.”

“Oh, you silly old thing,” Aziraphale says kissing Crowley’s forehead. “You have nothing to apologize for. This has been such jolly good fun!”

Crowley flashes Aziraphale a meek smile before hugging him even closer. “Good to hear, angel…”

Aziraphale presses their cheeks together and flirtatiously says, “While I did love Antoinette’s company, I must admit I cannot wait to take off this dress to properly see to my demon.”

Crowley feels the angel’s prick twitching with interest again and can’t help but chuckle, “I-I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

—

In their bedroom saturated in twilight, Crowley is sprawled on top of Aziraphale in a heap of bliss after a few more vigorous romping sessions. He laughingly hums, “Jesus Christ, angel, if I had known that you would have such an intense reaction, I would’ve gotten that costume ages ago. Like Locked-Up-In-The-Bastille ages ago.”

Aziraphale giggles as he lazily draws patterns on his shoulder. “I, uh, got a little carried away, didn’t I?”

“Well, you didn’t hear me complaining did you?” he points out. Crowley notices the angel’s hand stilling.

“Dear, can I ask you something?” he says a bit nervously.

Crowley lifts up his head and rests his chin on Aziraphale’s chest. “Sure thing, angel.”

He tucks a sweaty lock behind Crowley’s ear. “This surprise… I haven’t made you feel like I’m unsatisfied, have I?

“Wha— No, angel, that’s not— Of course you haven’t.” Crowley scoots up closer. “I… I’m the one who gets stuck in my head. Even if I know it’s not true, sometimes I feel like I should do more to deserve all of this. B-but being Antoinette… it helped me with that frustration.” The demon splays his hand over Aziraphale’s heart but doesn’t meet his eyes. “It helps knowing I can please you in any form.”

The angel gently tilts Crowley’s chin up so he can look at him. “Crowley, I’m so happy you found something that eases those worries and that you were willing to share it with me. But I want you to know one thing: you will always be worthy no matter what.”

Crowley’s lips quiver slightly and a quiet sob escapes them.

“I know I pushed you away for so many years,” he says guiltily, “but I want you to remember that I will _never_ do that again. Even if you don’t want to catch a play or eat at a particular restaurant with me, I’ll still be the happiest angel on Earth because I have you.”

Yellow-slitted eyes burn with impending tears and Crowley burrows himself into Aziraphale’s neck; the sincerity of his words leaving him rawer than consecrated ground. “I believe you…” he sniffs.

Since the very beginning, Aziraphale offered him kindness... He sheltered a demon of all things from the unknown rumbling skies above them. Perhaps that was the real catalyst for Crowley. He wanted to give back to that strange, fussy angel that shared figs with him as they waited out the storm together. Then it became about giving him all the love he didn’t know he was capable of.

“I love you so much, Aziraphale.”

His angel pecks the top of his head, wrapping his arms around him. “I love you too, Crowley.”

The demon gazes up at him again with misty eyes and a wide smile. “Ugh, you’ve made me into such a sap, angel,” he says in mock disgust.

“Guilty as charged,” Aziraphale laughs as he wipes the corners of Crowley’s eyes.

“So… does this mean you’d be up to doing this again?”

“Absolutely,” he affirms brightly. “I do believe Mr. Fell will be calling upon his maid frequently if she’s amenable.”

“Oh, she’s amenable alright and…” Crowley playfully tweaks Aziraphale’s nipple with a wicked smile, “she’s got a few ideas up her sleeves that she’s just dying to try out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For continuity’s sakes, let’s just say that Antoinette and Mr. Fell started their next adventure with a clean slate ;)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Maid for You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26378848) by [Gorillazgal86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gorillazgal86/pseuds/Gorillazgal86)




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